Rewind
by Andtheflamereturns
Summary: AU. First Year. A simple misunderstanding started it all; rectifying it changed the separate paths of Harry Potter and Severus Snape. Snape-mentors-Harry fic.
1. Chapter 1

**_Rewind_**

_By Koschei_xSigma_

_**Rating**:_ T for mild swearing.

_**Summary**:_ AU. First Year. A simple misunderstanding started it all; rectifying it changed the separate paths of Harry Potter and Severus Snape. Snape-mentors-Harry fic.

_**Author's Note**:_ Hello, everyone! This little plot bunny came to me as I was re-watching SS/PS the other day (along with a few others, but this is the more prominent one) and decided to write it. For starters, let me just say I have never condoned Snape's treatment of Harry — however, I _do_ understand it. Likewise, Harry's immediate dislike of Snape never settled good with me, either. And the first Potions class was the start of it all. A stupid misunderstanding (at least movie-wise, anyway; book!Snape's badgering of Harry that first class made it kind of hard to call a "misunderstanding", even though I realize Snape was attempting to see what level Harry was at at the time academic-wise, and was perhaps hoping the boy would impress him, only to be disappointed greatly). I think had Harry simply stated he was taking notes, Snape would have had a different impression of him. First impressions are everything; Snape didn't like of what he saw of Harry (with Harry's little smart-aleck response to the questions, _"Clearly, Hermione knows. Seems a __pity__ not to ask her!"_), and Harry what he saw of the Professor who seemed to hate him for no apparent reason. Had both of them attempted to change what was happening, things could have been different. Thus the point of this fic. Now, while Snape's treatment will be acceptable, he will not be border-line "nice", but he won't be mean, either. He will not coddle Harry, but he won't be his usual hard-ass self (God, do I love him, though). So yeah. :) Please read and review; I would love feedback! xD Thanks!

_**Disclaimer**:_ I do not own Harry Potter – Jo does. And it couldn't ever be done any better than what it was.

* * *

_**Chapter One: **_

"_**First Impressions"**_

Severus Snape stormed briskly down the corridors, his robes billowing gracefully behind him. Many of the students glanced at him apprehensively as he passed them, some whispering frantically to each other once they thought he was out of earshot. He ignored them. As he rounded the corner that lead to the dungeons which encased his classroom, he saw two first year girls looking around anxiously, holding pieces of paper, seemingly lost. At the sound of his approaching footsteps, one of the two, a little red-head he recognized from the Sorting feast as a new Hufflepuff student, Susan Bones, looked up and spotted him. Immediately, her eyes widened in fear and she halted abruptly, as if frozen into place, letting out a small whimper. Her companion, a small blonde called Hannah Abbot, gazed up at her friend, frowning, and asked in a hushed voice what was wrong. When Susan swallowed thickly and her gaze didn't move, Hannah's eyes followed, and seeing Snape rapidly approaching at last, let out a tiny "Eep!" and straightened into a robot-like posture. He sneered.

"Get to class!" He barked, satisfied when the two girls let out small yelps and raced past him. Smirking, he slowed down his pace as he reached the foot of the door. He could hear the loud, unimportant chit-chat amongst the students. He grimaced. Of course, the first class of the new year had to be bloody First Years. His hand reached out for the handle; this class was going to be a trying one, and likely one that he would need to have a Pain Reliever Potion ready for afterwards. Not only would the new students be confused and have to get used to the routines, and he would have to put up with the questions among other things, but most – if not all – of these students would be incompetent, as were many of the eleven-year-olds he got each year, and would be blowing up cauldrons from nervousness and unsettlement, along with their sheer stupidity. But that was only a small part of the problems he would have to endure from this class, although dealing with the little pests would be cause enough for a migraine – he would have to encounter one student in particular, one child he wished would just drop off the face of the earth before he had to lay his eyes on him: Harry Potter.

The son of the arrogant, bullying, James Potter. He released the handle. Surely, the boy was going to be just the same as his asshole father, the man who had made Severus's time at Hogwarts a living Hell. The apple never fell far from the tree, especially one as rotten and decaying as Potter. Maybe the little brat would blow himself up in today's class, then Severus would not have to deal with him. Or even better, maybe he didn't come to class at all. That would be ideal. But Snape never did have such luck; the boy was likely attending his class. Who knows, maybe the little runt would do something disastrous, like blowing up another child's cauldron with his bullying, and he could get the pest expelled? Even though he knew deep down that Dumbledore would never allow his little, precious savior be expelled.

He snarled, his eyes darkening, blood beginning to boil. Just the thought of the boy behind the door sent him into fury. He'd rather not have to set eyes on him at all. He wished the brat would just... _die_. But the memory of Lily, her endearing green eyes, that perfect smile and that calming, wonderful laugh that had made his darkest days more than bearable almost made him regret the thought; She had died to protect the boy, her son, her child. Just as he was Potter's son, he was Lily Evans's as well. Dumbledore had made him swear to not only protect the boy, just as Lily had done, but to give the child a chance, attempt to look past his appearance that looked so eerily similar to James's, and try, _try_ to see Lily in him, and try, _just try_, to like him.

But how could he? How was he even supposed to? All he could see when he looked at the boy at the feast was a miniature version of James Potter. Although when those green orbs, those beautiful green eyes, _Lily's eyes_, looked at him from his place amongst the other First Years and up at the Staff table where Snape had been seated, holding nothing but innocence and wonder, just as Lily's had been that first day, he had been taken aback, his foundation rocked. In that moment, and just that moment, the boy was Lily's son. But then those eyes, filled with pain as the lightening-bolt scar on the boy's forehead seared and he stared at Snape with nothing but suspicion and caution looked away, and he became James Potter's spawn once more. And nothing more.

Yes, the child was first and foremost a Potter, and no matter his eyes or his innocence, or how he had briefly reminded him of Lily, Snape knew the brat was just the same as his father. Blood was thicker than water, and Harry Potter was the embodiment of exactly what James had been.

He pushed the door open with excessive force as his anger exploded, causing the students to jump in fear, and raced to the front of the class. "There will be no foolish wand-waving, or silly incantations in this class," He began as he turned and faced them. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle sciene and exact art that is potion-making, however, for those select few..." He lowered his gaze, finding Draco Malfoy, the little blonde son of Lucius Malfoy, one of Severus's old friends. Seeing the boy staring up at him with nothing but admiration, he continued, folding his arms across his chest. "Who possess the predisposition... I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death." Draco's eyebrows rose as he grinned, undisguised greed and amazement outlining his features.

Snape then moved his eyes across the room as he surveyed each student, and then he landed on young Harry Potter. Not to his disappointment, the boy was already showing truth to his earlier, unwavering assumptions; He was inattentive, seemingly finding writing in his notebook to be more interesting than the capturing lecture Snape had been giving that had all of the other students at least pretending to be interested. "Then again," He continued, his drawl filling up the room, "Maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of skills so formidable that you feel confident enough.." To his annoyance, the boy did not cease his writing as he indirectly chastised him. "To _not. pay. attention_!"

At this, Hermione Granger, who sat besides Potter, glanced at him, and seeing that Snape was right, nudged the boy sharply, causing the boy to look up at her confusedly, and only when the girl jerked her head at their teacher, did Potter finally address Snape with his attention, and when he found Snape's black eyes glaring down at him, he shrinked back, flinching.

"Please, sir," The boy spoke meekly, his voice nervous and soft. "I was paying attention, promise. I... I was taking notes, sir."

There was a dead silence.

"Taking notes." Snape repeated softly. At the boy's small nod, as the child looked back at the notes with nothing but scared and unsure eyes, did Snape's anger decrease. Silence prolonged, and Harry looked back up at the Professor. Snape stared at him a moment longer before he gave a curt nod, and placed his hands behind his back as he turned away from the boy and back at the class that seemed to have stopped breathing from the tension. "Well," He said finally, as the children's attention went back to him, "It seems Mr. Potter has the right idea on what to do in the first lesson. It would do you all well to follow his example. Five points to Gryffindor."

As the students all scrambled for quills and proceeded with flipping their notebooks open, Snape saw Harry's eyes alight with pride, his green eyes sparkling in happiness. The rest of the lesson passed smoothly; it happened like he had predicted, cauldrons exploding, messes being created, much confusion and scattered movement from the class as they gathered ingredients, producing their first potion of the year. But none of them were injured, and all in all, Snape was pretty pleased with how the class was managing. With the exception of Neville Longbottom, who he knew right off the bat was going to be the worst of his students, they had all done pretty well. Harry, he saw, when he walked around observing the class, seemed to have a prominent interest and talent at Potions. The boy gave careful thought and consideration to the potion he was brewing; he checked, double-checked, triple-checked, and even checked a fourth and fifth time to the instructions as he brewed, giving nothing but the most careful attentiveness to the ingredients he added, both in amount and size.

To say he was stunned would be understating it; Snape was completely shocked that Potter's son was showing such efficiency at a subject Potter had sneered at, had picked on Severus and Lily both for being adept and competent at it, and deemed completely unnecessary for his career choice later on.

"I mean, really," James had sneered, speaking loudly for everyone within a twenty-mile radius to hear as they had left Potions the first afternoon of classes. "Who needs Potions for becoming an Auror? Just gonna be catching dark wizards, it isn't like I'm gonna be measuring a concoction of something or anything. All you need to know is about the dark arts, and how to defend against them. And honestly, it isn't like Potions is a subject that is perfectly interesting anyway; creating chemicals, I can do that all on my own in the loo."

Sirius Black, who bounced along on one side of Potter, and Peter Pettigrew who tailed along beside Remus Lupin who was on Potter's opposite, both laughed.

Disgusted and annoyed, young Severus had snarled from behind him and his little friends, "But if your ambition is to become an Auror, Potter, then won't it be efficient to know if, say, you were facing Grindelwald and he had a vial of Draught of Living Death and had managed to slip it to you when you were unsuspecting, what the effect would be? Or a poison of some sort that could render you paralyzed and useless? Or, say there was an attack you were called for and the room it's in has been put under dark magic that you have to inspect and remove, and there's a cauldron of something that you have no clue what it is or what it can do. It could blow up, release a gas that can kill everyone within the vicinity or produce anything that can be potentially vital to your health. Would you not need to know how to counter-act these and ensure everyone's safety?"

James turned, glaring, and rounded on him. "I didn't ask for your worthless opinion, Snivellus. Besides, it's stupid; no dark wizard is gonna care about dumb potions when they got dark magic and spells that do the exact same thing. Like I said, you don't need it to become an Auror, but apparently you're stupid enough to believe that you do. Though of course, I shouldn't be surprised, seeing as you're a _Slytherin_."

Lily, as she walked beside Severus, glared sharply at Potter. "He's right, Potter. Potions is essential in anyone wishing to become an Auror. It's in the NEWT's. Or were you not listening to Professor Mgonagall's lecture?"

Potter snorted. "Oh, please, Evans, as if I'd listen to her incessant rambling. Got better things to put my attention to. Quidditch tryouts are next week. My dad was in Quidditch, you see — "

"Of course,_ Quidditch_." Snape sneered. "Can see why you would be interested in it, Potter; it's great for nothing but showing off trying to get girls and attracting attention to yourself. How very _Gryffindor_."

James spun around, his wand pointing directly in Snape's face. "Shut up, Snivellus. Think you're jealous because no one spares you a second glance except for Evans, and I can't comprehend why she even does – "

"Oh, you comprehend?" Lily said nastily.

" – But let me tell you, even if you _were_ in Quidditch, not that you ever would be, because of your _appearance_ and all, but no one would spare you a _first_ glance even _then_."

Snape barely had time to blink before Lily was in James's face, her wand pressing hardly at the tip of his nose, her eyes ablaze with fury. Potter's friends seemed shocked stiff, except for Black, who was raising his wand, looking about ready to Hex Lily. This didn't go unnoticed by her. "You had better stay where you are, Black, before I tell you where to go, too." She said cooly. Black swallowed, and looked at the back of Potter's head nervously before he lowered his wand back to his side. Lily's attention went back to James.

"You think you're so smart and so great, Potter," She growled, "But you're just jealous that I won't give you the time of day, and even if you play that stupid game because your dad was in it and you see fit to be a _'Daddy's boy'_, I _still_ won't give you the time of day! I don't want your friendship, not now, not ever, and I can not see how those idiots — "She jerked her head at James's friends. " – can even stand to be near you. You're bullying, pathetic, arrogant and a complete loser, and that will never earn you _any_ sort of attention from me. Come on, Sev."

And she grabbed Snape's hand and they were walking briskly away from the four Gryffindors, who all seemed quite put out.

He pulled out of his thoughts as the bell rang, ending class for the day. "Class dismissed," He called in his usual drawl. "Put your completed flask on my desk before you depart for grading and put away your ingredients."

The students obeyed at once, bringing up the completed work, and as he glimpsed the full vials, Snape saw many had only just managed an acceptable draft. Draco Malfoy had done exceptionally well, as did Granger, and when Harry Potter brought up his flask and placed it on the desk, Snape was not surprised to see it was the best out of the class, brewed almost perfectly and without error. The boy lingered at his desk for a moment, and when Snape met his eyes, the child gave him a small smile, one that Severus was only barely able to keep himself from returning.

* * *

A few hours later, and classes were done for the day. Severus approached the Gargoyle that lead to the Headmaster's office and struggled to remember today's idiotic candy-based password. "Butter Fingers." He called, almost releasing a sigh of relief when the old Gargoyle opened to reveal the staircase. The last thing he wanted was to look like a dunderhead in front of any on-looking students or teachers. Immediately, he turned and glared murderously at a Seventh Year couple that was passing.

" – Was thinking that we could go to Hogsmead next weekend and hang for a bit, you know." The boy was saying. "Then, I can tell her..."

As she caught the expression on Snape's face, the girl removed her head from her boyfriend's shoulder and let out a loud wail and took off running down the hall, leaving her boyfriend calling out after her, confused and upset.

Smirking to himself, Snape made his way upstairs. A moment later, and he was standing in Dumbledore's office with the old man's blue eyes twinkling up at him, and feeling immensely annoyed.

"Severus, my boy." Dumbledore greeted. "How were your classes for the day?"

"The same as they usually are every year." Snape replied.

"As expected," Dumbledore nodded, as he popped a lemon drop into his mouth. "First Years?"

"Most are dunderheads, however there are a few that may just pass my class after all, having brewed acceptable potions. Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger, notably — "

"Ah, young Mr. Malfoy, also as expected," Dumbledore interrupted, nodding again. "And Harry?"

Severus did his best to remain impassive. "Potter produced the best potion out of the class."

"Did he now? And that pleased you, I am sure?" That damn twinkle was back.

Severus's eye twitched. "I will admit, I was impressed – "

"You should have expected Harry might be good at Potions, Severus. I recall Lily was adept at it, and seeing as he _is_ her son – "

" – And Potter's." Snape sneered.

" – He might have inherited some of her talents." Dumbledore continued as if Severus hadn't spoken. "Am I correct in assuming you have come to realize that Harry is not the same as his father?"

Severus sighed. "So far, he has shown to be more like Lily, however he is Potter's son as well, so to assume he is not at all like him would be completely ignorant of me."

"Excellent, Severus, excellent!" Dumbledore beamed, apparently pretending not to have heard that last bit. "I am sure you will come to see just how much more like Lily that Harry is, and look past that old school grudge against the boy's father. After all, it's not the outside that shows us exactly who someone is – it is the inside, the soul that counts. Never judge a book by it's cover."

"...Indeed." Severus was unconvinced, and definitely ready to leave. "Well, if we are finished here, Headmaster..."

"Just a moment, Severus," Dumbledore called, in all seriousness. His expression, which had been lighthearted moments before, was now somber and firm. "I trust you remember the agreement we made eleven years ago... that together, we would protect Lily's son. Should the boy start showing some traits of James – as you said, they are there – I trust you with the promise we made back then, that you will still protect Harry even if he becomes more like him, from all that might harm him."

Severus turned abruptly, away from Dumbledore, and pointed his wand behind him, not bothering to look as the Silver Doe emerged, just as elegant and beautiful as she had always been, or at Dumbledore's sad blue eyes that held pain and sympathy as he responded cooly, "Of course, Headmaster. I will protect Harry Potter, Lily's son, with all that is within me, from anyone or anything that might mean him harm. Even if it's my own misplaced judgment."

And Severus Snape swept from the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Holy crap! I want to thank you guys who reviewed/favorited this fic! Didn't think anyone would be interested. xD Slight meanie-Snape this chapter (but some nice Snape too!) But especially next chapter.

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Chapter Two:**

"**Questions"**

"Ugh! How much homework did that git have to give us? Especially in the first week of ruddy classes!"

They were seated at the breakfast table. Harry looked over at Ron who it seemed had yet to fully complete his Potions homework. Hermione sat across from the both of them, frowning in disapproval, and shook her head.

"Well, if you had finished it last night instead of procrastinating the whole evening..."

Ron glared at her. "I _was_ working last night!" He said hotly. "Don't forget we had Transfiguration homework too! And Charms!"

"All we had to do in Charms was practice the 'swish-and-flick' movement," Hermione replied tersely. "And the Transfiguration homework was to simply read an introductionary chapter for today's lesson. The Potions homework wasn't that difficult, either, we just needed to define the ingredients we used in yesterday's potion and basically write the theory and steps on how we brewed it."

"Okay, I get it!" Ron snapped, his ears growing red. "The Transfiguration homework surely was easy, if it hadn't been _boring_ and taken me a long time to read because it kept putting me to sleep, and oh yeah, the Charms practice was simple too, only because _you kept telling me how to do it every five minutes _and the Potions essay was a piece of cake too, if I knew how to write it out and _could remember how I did it!_"

Hermione clicked her tongue. "You need to stop making excuses and just get the homework done before our lesson this afternoon, Ron. Harry and I both managed to finish that Potions essay last night."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, maybe because you guys actually remember what you did and because we didn't get anything new to do because Snape's such a greasy git and doesn't want to actually take the time to explain anything to us. He works us to death and then gives us a load of homework without bothering to even tell us anything. He sucks. Just points at the board and – "

"I don't think he's a bad teacher." Harry mumbled. "Just strict."

Ron looked at him as if he were crazy. "Harry, have you seen the way he treats everyone? It's as if he's got a stick shoved up his – "

"_Ronald_," Hermione scolded, "Professor Snape's just one of those teachers that cares about his students' academic achievement and so he sees fit to come down on us. Personally, I find him a great teacher. Sure, he's not very pleasant, but he's strict and firm because he cares."

"Oh, sure," Ron snapped sarcastically, "That's why he has it in for us Gryffindors and favors his own bloody house."

Hermione sighed loudly in exasperation. "Honestly, Ron! If you took care to notice, he awarded Gryffindor five points yesterday because of Harry, and he gave us all – _yes, even the Slytherins _– the same homework. So stop complaining and just finish it. Everyone got the same thing."

That seemed to shut Ron up. Huffing, the red-head went back to his parchment, tapping the bottom of his quill against it momentarily before he began to lazily write. Harry looked over at the Staff table to see Professor Snape engaging in small conversation with Professor Flitwick. He smiled slightly; ever since yesterday's class when Snape had praised him, Harry was excited to go to the next lesson. Potions was a subject Harry rather liked, and although he had made it his goal to do the best he could in all his classes, for some reason, he wanted to do even better in Potions. Snape had been pleased with him in his first class, and Harry had no intention of doing anything but his best to keep his teacher proud.

Professor Quirrell, the weird, stuttering, Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher locked eyes with Harry, then, and almost at once, Harry's scar seared with pain. He winced, raising a hand to rub at it gingerly. For a moment, he thought he saw Snape look over at him with something like alarm in his eyes, but Harry was sure he had imagined it, because a second later the Professor was back to his conversation as if he'd never even noticed anything.

Harry lowered his head onto his arms, letting his scar rest against the cool wooden table and closed his eyes. He didn't like when his scar hurt. It happened at the feast and then when he'd caught Quirrell staring at him almost murderously at dinner last night, and now again. Somehow, he got the feeling it was Quirrell's fault his scar hurt, and to Harry's disappointment, they had him directly after breakfast.

Like clockwork, the bell rang, and Harry groaned as he felt everyone else around him begin to disperse from the table. "Harry," Hermione called gently, "Harry, it's time to go."

He sighed, and trudged to his feet as he followed miserably after her and Ron. He did not notice Snape's black eyes retreat back to him as he left.

* * *

"H-H-hello c-class." Quirrell stuttered, giving a nervous, twitchy smile.

No one returned the greeting; most of the students had their noses covered with their robes from the hideous odor resonating from Quirrell's turban. Harry, too, felt slightly nauseated as he sat just in front of the Professor. It had been weird; Harry had quickly moved to take a seat in the back like he had always done at school for classes he didn't particularly like, and before he had claimed a spot near the back window, Quirrell came sprinting into the classroom, requesting that Harry sit in the front. Yet, he made no other requests for any other student; they all sat wherever they wanted.

"T-t-today," The man continued, smiling wider, "We are going t-t-to l-l-learn about c-curse scars."

Curse scars? What the hell? Harry narrowed his eyes. Quirrell looked down at him, directly at Harry's lightening-bolt scar. "A-as you k-know, we have a s-s-student among us that h-h-has such a s-s-scar. The o-o-only s-s-student in f-f-fact."

Okay. This guy was absolutely creepy. Harry shivered. He knew the man was referring to him, and he dreaded what he knew was going to come next. He was annoyed, and his scar was throbbing painfully again.

"M-Mr. P-P-P-potter," Quirrell nearly squeaked. "If you w-w-would come to the f-f-front of the c-c-class, p-please."

Feeling as though his stomach had dropped out from under him, Harry thought he was going to vomit. "Um... I actually don't feel so good, Professor," Harry stated, hoping the man would just leave him alone and let him go up to the Infirmary. Quirrell's lips twitched, in worry or amusement, Harry couldn't tell.

"A-ah, yes, I just n-n-need you a m-m-moment, Mr. P-Potter, t-then you may w-w-ish to go to t-t-the infir-r-rmary, yes?"

"Yes, sir." Harry sighed, knowing there was no way out of it; he couldn't tell Quirrell no, and he could not just run out of the classroom either without risking getting caught by a teacher. Although that alternative was very tempting at the moment..

To his relief, Hermione's hand shot up before Harry had the chance to leave his chair. Quirrell looked over at her, frowning slightly. "Y-y-yes, Miss...?"

"Granger, sir." She replied, her brown eyes watching him carefully. "I was wondering, Professor, why do you need Harry to come up there?"

Quirrell laughed slightly, and the sound of it made Harry's skin crawl. "For a p-p-practical l-l-lesson of c-course, Ms. G-G-Granger. P-Potter's scar is v-very c-c-curious indeed. I s-simply r-r-require his as-s-istance m-momentarily."

Hermione lowered her hand, frowning. "Oh, I see, sir."

Feeling as though he was going to heave at any moment, Harry slowly got to his feet and walked to stand next to Professor Quirrell. It was all he could do not to throw up his breakfast when Quirrel lowered himself to Harry's height and peered unrelentingly at the scar. "T-this scar was m-made by a c-c-curse."

_Well, duh. _Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _That's why it was called a curse scar. _

"A very e-e-vil c-curse. H-however, it is n-not one u-usually a c-cause from a f-f-failed c-curse. I-It's s-shape is v-very c-curious." A thin finger ran along his scar then, and Harry jumped from the electrical surge that seemed to have run through it at Quirrell's touch. "A-ah, it s-seems P-P-Potter does not l-l-like to h-have his s-s-scar t-touched."

_Just figured that out, genius? _Harry grimaced. Hermione's lips were pressed together tightly, as if she was restraining herself from demanding the Professor to stop.

"T-t-then, I s-shall e-end this p-practical l-lesson. C-curse s-scars a-are all d-different. S-some c-cause p-p-pain, others do n-n-not. In a-a-all my y-years of r-r-research, I have n-never s-s-seen something s-so e-extraordinary! T-t-thank you, P-P-Potter. S-shall I-I s-send G-G-Granger with the h-h-homework l-l-later?"

"Yes, sir." Harry let out a huge sigh of relief, and wasted no time in walking as quickly as he could without it being a run out of the classroom and into the corridor. Almost at once, the nausea lifted. The pain in his scar eased, but only slightly. He winced, rubbing it again as he started up to the Hospital Wing, hoping to get something for the pain, or at least the light-headedness he was feeling.

He walked slowly now, struggling to stand upright as his vision blurred and darkened. He blinked rapidly to calm it, and then before he knew it he had staggered forward and walked straight into something heavy. He looked up, only to see Professor Severus Snape glaring down at him.

"Potter," Snape snarled. "Aren't you supposed to be in class? The class just behind you, in fact?"

Harry nearly flinched at the hard tone. "Y-Yes, sir, I was just there. Professor Quirrel's sent me to the Hospital Wing."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Whatever for?"

His head started to swim, as if someone had seized him and was spinning him around continuously forever and ever. Everything seemed to be dimming out, and he blinked and it was refocused.

"H-H-Head..."

His vision darkened dramatically again, and he felt himself growing limp, and he knew Snape was talking to him but he couldn't _hear_...

And then Snape reached out, pushing Harry up before he could collapse to the floor, his omniscient eyes glazed with the alarm Harry had seen earlier that morning. "Potter, can you hear me?" He asked softly.

Harry nodded weakly. "Y-Yeah... now I can, sir."

He still felt weak, and the sickness was back, and his scar continued to ache. He closed his eyes, whimpering slightly as it gave a particularly harsh throb.

"What's hurting you, Potter?" Snape asked, his voice still soft. Harry squeezed his eyes shut as the pain worsened.

"My s-scar, Professor Snape."

Had Harry's eyes been opened, he might have seen the shock flick across Snape's face. "Your scar..? Does it usually hurt you?"

Harry opened his eyes slowly as the pain calmed. "No, sir. Only when I have the dreams about the green light and the man who killed my..." He trailed off. He didn't want to think of Voldemort.

Or his parents. Or anything, really. He just wanted to rest, to will the pain to go away.

"Is that what happened at the Sorting feast as well?" Snape inquired.

"Yes."

"And has it hurt anymore since that time?"

"Last night, at dinner. And this morning at breakfast, and then just now in Professor Quirrell's class."

He watched Snape as the man nodded slowly, his expression stoic again. "Very well... do you need assistance to the Hospital Wing, Potter?"

"No thank you, sir," Harry shook his head, managing a small smile. "I think I'll be okay..."

Snape looked thoughtful for a moment before he simply nodded, and let Harry stand on his own, watching the boy as he walked slowly, but more steadily, down the hall. "Potter," He called, and the boy turned to gaze at him inquiringly. "If you are unwell enough to make my afternoon class, I can arrange for a lesson for you after dinner if you would like. You may also try to brew some extra potions for extra credit if you wish."

Harry looked simply confused for a moment before his mouth split into a huge grin. "Really? Oh, I would like that, sir! Thank you!"

"Then, I shall see you tonight. Come promptly at Seven."

"Yes, sir! Thank you!"

Still grinning, the boy continued to his destination, looking a sight better than he had just moments before.

* * *

Severus stood there, simply watching the boy until he could see him no longer and then he took off in the opposite direction, past Quirrell's class, and even though the incentive to enter and question the blundering idiot what was going on with Harry was almost overwhelming, he continued until he reached the Headmaster's office. After saying the newest password, Snape climbed up the winding staircase and without even bothering to knock, shoved the door open to see Albus sitting in his chair.

The old man looked up, eyebrows rising as he saw the expression on the teacher's face. "Severus, what has – ?"

"It's Potter," Snape spoke quickly. "I just ran into him apparently skipping class, until I questioned him and found out that was not the case."

Dumbledore looked puzzled. "So what was...?"

"He was in Quirrell's class, Albus. He was sent to the Hospital Wing after claiming his scar was hurting him. When I found him, the boy was dazed, staggering and in downright danger of losing consciousness."

"I see," Dumbledore said slowly. "Then, our assumptions..."

"Have pretty much proven true," Snape finished. "If Quirrell is indeed being possessed by the Dark Lord, then Potter is in danger every single time he is alone with him."

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I feared as much, Severus. For Harry's scar to be hurting him now of all times... did the boy say anything else?"

Snape nodded. "He did mention that his scar has hurt him before when I questioned him about it, but that was from the times he dreamt of the 'green light' when he was younger." At Dumbledore's confused look, Severus continued, "He saw them _die_, Albus. He dreamt of _that man_ murdering his mother and father!"

"Oh, my." Dumbledore's expression turned even more somber. "Poor Harry. I never did think he'd remember such a horrific ordeal; I'd hoped he would have been spared of it, that the child would have no recollection of that event whatsoever, but it seems my hopes were in vain."

Snape said nothing. How could the child not remember that night? Even as young as he was, only a year old, the murder of your parents would surely remain buried in the subconscious. That was the way the mind worked; children's dreams, moreso than adults, revealed hidden memories and recollections that they never should have witnessed in the first place. He, himself, was a victim of that true fact. He'd watched his father beat his mother from the age of two onwards, and even now, at his age, did it sometimes come back to haunt him. Among other things that still haunted him.

"Well," Dumbedore sighed, leaning back in his chair, "This makes things slightly easier now, doesn't it?"

Snape's eyebrows furrowed. "I am not sure I follow you, Headmaster..."

Dumbledore's eye twinkled annoyingly. "If Professor Quirrell is a container for Lord Voldemort, then no doubt he's going to try and kill Harry while he's here at school. Of course, there's not much he can do, with me here, but he will try nonetheless, anything he possibly can without making it look intentional. He will make them look like accidents. He will find ways, I assure you, because while he will count on me looking out for Harry, I can not do it at all times of the day, but he will not, however, count on you looking out for the child. "

"Yes," Snape said.

"Your vow to protect Harry is going to be the only thing we can rely on, Severus. No one else knows, not even the boy, that you will be keeping an eye on him. Voldemort will eventually figure it out, especially if you thwart any attempts at the boy's life, but I will not allow you harm. I will not allow Harry nor yourself to become yet more victims of Lord Voldemort once again. I daresay he's taken a bit too much from both of you already."

Snape was stunned into silence.

* * *

Harry was feeling much better by the time dinner came around. So much better in fact he was almost giddy. His scar was no longer hurting him, and the sickness he had felt earlier that day seemed to have been replaced by hunger. He ate quickly, watching the time, squirming in his seat from excitement.

"Blimey, Harry," Said one of the twins, who Harry thought was Fred. "By the way you're acting one would think – "

" – that you were excited for a Quidditch match or something." Finished George.

"Yeah, really," Ron grunted, as he ate his third plate, "Going to a make-up lesson, Potions nonetheless? I'd be dreading it!"

Hermione glared. "Harry happens to like Potions, don't you, Harry?"

Harry blushed. "Yeah. It reminds me of Chemistry in Muggle School. It's the same kind of thing. The theory behind it. I just think it's fun to learn. You have to be so precise, so there's never a dull moment, because any mistake can mess it up."

Hermione beamed, but Ron just looked bored. "Maybe you just like it a lot because Snape seems to be okay with you, and he's not with any other Gryffindor. Or anyone else, really."

Harry went red.

"What's this?" The twins chorused in unison.

"Does ickle Harry – " Fred began, smirking.

" – Have a kiddie crush on Snape?" George snickered.

Harry knew he was as red as a tomato and sputtered, almost choking on his drink. "What? No! No, I don't!" He yelled loudly, his neck down seemingly ablaze with fire he was so hot, fists pounding on the table as the Weasleys laughed. "Stop it, you guys! I don't have a crush on Snape for Merlin's sake!"

"Crush on Snape?" Draco Malfoy drawled as he passed their table, smiling evily. Harry nearly squawked. "Well, that would certainly explain things, wouldn't it, Potter?" He sneered.

"Sod off, Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed hotly, "It's not like that! I just don't think he's a rotten git like everyone else does!"

Malfoy was looking at him with something between amazement and horror. "You know, you should have been a bloody Slytherin, Potter." He stalked off.

"What the _hell,_" Harry asked, "Was that supposed to mean?" No one answered him.

At seven o' clock sharp, Harry made his way down to the Dungeons, still slightly embarrassed by the twins's antics. Instead, he tried to focus on collecting his thoughts so he could properly brew the potions he would be required to do for today's lesson, and wondered just what kind of extra credit work he would be given. Knocking on the door that belonged to Professor Snape, he waited, until a sharp, "Enter!" echoed around the walls, and Harry opened the door and stepped inside.

Snape glanced up from his grading as he found Harry. "Good evening, Mr. Potter."

"Good evening, sir," Harry replied politely as he made his way over to a small work table where a cauldron was already placed. Glancing quickly at the blackboard, he saw that the instructions for a Forgetfulness Potion was written and immediately set off to gather ingredients.

Snape stayed quite whilst Harry worked, glancing up only now and then to observe Harry's progress. He noticed the boy was taking even more caution than he had the previous lesson, biting his lip as he checked each instruction multiple times a piece.

"Tell me, Potter," He addressed the child, and Harry looked up at him, "Why is it that you check each individual instruction multiple times for this particular potion, when the last one you checked around four or five times all-together?"

"Erm," The boy fidgeted slightly, his brow furrowed in thought. "Because this potion can make you forget even the simplest of detail as you're brewing it, and the last potion was a simpler one, so less concentration – though still an acceptable amount – has to be given?"

Snape nodded. "Correct, Potter, very good."

The little boy smiled, and went back to his potion. Twenty minutes later, and the draft was complete, perfectly accurate. Snape could tell Harry was pleased with his work, and he even had a small bounce in his step as he filled the vial and headed over to place it on the desk.

And then his scar erupted into pain, and Harry let out a loud gasp as his vision blurred and he staggered forward, falling onto his knees, and his completed potion slipped from his grasp, the vial busting upon contact with the floor and spilling the potion's liquid remains. "Oh, no." The boy wailed, despair and disappointment etched into his voice.

Snape sighed and got up and rounded the desk, stepping around the spilt potion to Potter's side. He reached out and grabbed the boy firmly, but almost gently, by the back of his collar, pulling him up and turning him around to face him. He did not expect to see tears falling rapidly down the child's cheeks, his face red from embarrassment and shame. He said nothing, simply letting the boy cry, and with a simple spell, cleaned up the mess from the floor and went back to his desk to finish the grading.

Potter simply stood where he was, hiccuping, and for how long Severus did not know, but he barely managed to restrain a smile when he heard the sound of movement, glasses clattering and the familiar sound of bubbling that told him the boy was making another draft.

Some time and a completed potion later, Harry brought the successful draft up to his Professor's desk, his eyes still slightly puffy from all the crying he had done, but filled with absolute determination as well.

"Very acceptable draft, Potter," Snape informed him as he held the small flask between his slender fingers. "Lacking some of the texture of your last concoction, but acceptable nonetheless. And in some ways, even better than your last."At Harry's confused look he continued. "You put all of your effort and determination into this one; that is what I expect from my most gifted students. Of course, perfection will always be my most required stipulation, but the effort put into the potion matters just the same. The strive to make your very best work. Concentration and attentiveness to detail and instruction are important, Potter, but what I expect from my most talented, prized students who show competency with potions, is now what I expect from you in all you do."

Harry nodded, though he now looked a little unsure of himself. Snape sighed again, and realizing he was pressuring the boy, placed a hand on his small shoulder. "One thing I want to encourage in you, P-Harry, is that determination I saw just a little while ago as you remade this potion. You broke the last one, and you did exactly what I wanted you to do; you tried again, which is exactly what I and your mother would have done."

The boy's eyes widened. "You knew my mother?"

Snape cursed himself mentally. Of all things to bring up to Potter, he had to mention Lily. He'd sworn, he'd promised himself he never would speak of her around Potter's spawn, not when the boy would be so much like his father. But Harry wasn't really at all like his father, was he? No, he was too much like Lily, too much it was painful. And that pain was exactly why he refused to speak of her.

He had to give the child an answer, however, and he decided leaving it for a later time would be more beneficial for both of them.

"I do not want to talk about it, Potter. You are dismissed." He said flatly, turning away from the child to hide his pained eyes.

"But — " The little boy protested.

"_Out_, Potter!" Snape yelled.

The boy didn't need told twice; he scrambled for his bag and headed quickly for the door. Just before he left though Snape caught the dejected, pained look upon the child's face and for a moment, and only a moment, wished he could take it back.

... _And,_ he wondered briefly, _when the hell had he started referring to the boy as "Harry"?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Hello guys! Hope you all had a very Harry – I mean, Merry Christmas! :D I'm so, so sorry that I haven't posted a new chap in the last few days; Christmas, and of course, being me, I had to fall on the snow and bruise the inside of my fingers, so it hurts badly to type. xD Anyway.. I am just in shock at how many people are adding this to their story-alerts. Seriously, you guys have no idea how happy this has made me. XD It's made my Christmas. I got a really awesome review from emcee31 who said I should re-write the whole series based on this idea. I had actually been planning this and was going to bring it up sometime after I posted the next chapter, but now's a good as a time as any. I would absolutely love to do all seven books, but I have a question for you guys; does anyone know if there's a limit to the number of chapters that can be posted for one story? I have a feeling this would be well over 100, and I definitely would like to keep it all in one story as opposed to making seven different ones. So thank you so much to emcee31! ^^

**Disclaimer:** Nope. Still don't own. : D

* * *

**Chapter Three:**

"**Insight"**

Harry was in trouble.

As he followed behind Professor McGonagall, struggling to keep up, he felt a huge surge of disappointment in himself. They had been in their first flying lesson. Neville, having lost control of his broom, suffered a broken wrist and had to be escorted to the Infirmary. Hooch had commanded the class all remained on the ground, to wait until she returned from taking Neville to the Hospital Wing, before they would be allowed to fly.

Harry had disobeyed.

Of course, it hadn't been a completely intentional task that he'd set out to do; Malfoy had picked up Neville's Rememberall, intent on hiding it from the other boy. Harry had gotten annoyed, and demanded for Draco to hand it over, but when the blonde refused, and instead soared into the air on his broomstick, mocking Harry to come and get it, he'd mounted his broom, flown up after the little Slytherin, and demanded he handed the ball over again. When Malfoy instead tossed it as far as his arm could expand, Harry set off after it, inexperienced and slightly uneasy on the broom, but he'd managed to retrieve the ball, and that was when McGonagall came out, her lips pressed into a thin line as she called out for him to follow her.

They reached the end of a corridor, and Harry's stomach plummeted as he heard Quirrell giving a lecture from the open classroom door. Great, do I have to deal with him? He wondered, the thought making him light-headed. McGonagall stopped suddenly, nearly causing Harry to run into her and gave him a brisk, "You wait here," before she headed inside the classroom, stopping in the doorway.

"Professor Quirrell, please excuse me," She intoned hurriedly, "Can I borrow Wood for a moment, please?"

_Wood?_ Harry thought, eyes widening in fear. _Is that a type of cane she's gonna beat me with..?_

Quirrell frowned, but nodded. "Why y-yes, of c-course."

Wood, it turned out, was not an object, but a student. He looked quizzically for a moment at Harry before he turned his attention to the woman. "Potter, this is Oliver Wood," She informed Harry, and Wood gave him a small smile that Harry returned nervously. "Wood," And Harry's mouth nearly fell open as McGonagall smiled, turning to stare proudly at Harry, "I have found you a Seeker."

_A what? _Harry's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"It's one of the positions of the game Quidditch," Wood told him politely, noticing Harry's puzzlement. "Usually, First Years never make the House teams. Congratulations, Potter." He reached out to shake Harry's hand which Harry eagerly returned.

McGonagall sighed contentedly. "Perhaps now we will have a chance at beating Slytherin this year." She grimaced. "Every year for the longest time, we have lost to them. We just could not find a Seeker talented enough to win the game, and then we had no Seeker at all, the students were just not confident enough." She surveyed Harry, and smiled again. "But now with you, Potter, we have a much higher chance of winning this time."

"Higher chance of winning what, Minerva, may I ask?" A drawl bored out from behind Harry. Directly from behind him. The person's body weight was almost pressing up against him. Harry looked up, craning his head to see Snape towering over him. As Harry looked up at him, the man lowered his gaze to him for a moment, his expression unreadable, before his eyes averted back to the Gryffindor Head of House.

McGonagall turned, lips in a thin line. "Severus," She replied in a clipped voice, "How nice to see you." It didn't sound like it was.

Snape inclined his head. "As it is you."

McGonagall's eyes flashed, and she crossed her arms, giving Snape an unsettling smile. "A higher chance of winning the next game of Quidditch, to answer your question. I have just appointed a new Seeker. Harry Potter, as it is."

Harry watched Snape carefully. The man's eyes narrowed, and he looked down at the child again, and for the first time, Harry shivered at the clear dislike on the man's face.

"Well," Said Snape silkily, his eyes still upon Harry, "I do hope you will be getting Mr. Potter set up and trained before the match arrives. It would not do to have him be unprepared before his arrogance reaches its peak."

And then he stormed away, leaving Harry angry and confused on why he was acting so mean.

Telling Ron and Hermione that he was now Gryffindor's Seeker would have been the best news to tell them, had it not been for Snape's little remark. Instead of being excited, Harry was upset and angry, not understanding Snape's sudden change in behavior towards him.

_He doesn't like me anymore, _Harry realized. _He hates me now because I asked about Mum... _

He had not spoken to Snape since then; it had been nearly a month since the Professor had kicked Harry out of his classroom, and not once since then did Snape seem to have any intent of talking to Harry, about that night, or anything at all, in fact.

These past few Potions lessons had been uncomfortable. Harry was still doing rather well, but he had lost some of his drive, and Snape didn't seem to want to encourage him at all. He made no comments when Harry would bring up his finished potion at the end of each lesson, and he made no eye contact when Harry attempted to make it, and he most definitely did not return the forced small smiles Harry gave to him when the boy attempted to rectify things with the teacher.

It seemed Snape wanted no more at all to do with him, and this hurt Harry greatly, as he had grown to admire the Potions Master, and felt that Snape had liked him, only to discover he now despised him.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but Harry blinked them away as he pretended to take interest in his friends' elated conversation.

" – It's in his blood, you know. James Potter was also a Seeker..."

The name brought Harry out of his revere. "My Dad?" He asked Hermione, shocked.

The girl frowned at him. "Yes, Harry. Didn't you know..?"

"No," Harry blinked. "I don't know anything at all about my parents.."

There was a moment of silence, in which Harry regretted giving that information before Hermione grabbed his sleeve, and smiled. "Then I've got something to show you. Come on!" She dragged him along into the castle, Ron following after, and they didn't stop until they reached a glass cabinet that Hermione pointed to as she finally released Harry.

Harry gaped at the small badge encased within the large glass, which held his father's name._ James Potter. SEEKER. _Harry smiled, pride surging through his veins. His dad was a Seeker too! He turned to his friends, grinning. "Oh, thank you, Hermione," He addressed the girl, who was looking immensely proud of herself.

She smiled in response. Together, the trio made their way back up to the Common Room to get started on their weekend homework. Harry, still feeling delighted that his father had been a Seeker, too, said breathlessly, "My dad... a Seeker. Lucky Hermione found that, otherwise I would never have known..."

Ron shook his head. "It's so spooky, Harry. She knows more about you than you do!"

Harry just shrugged. "Who doesn't?"

The staircase moved suddenly, causing the three children to yelp in surprise. "What's going on?" Demanded Ron, who had gone slightly white. Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"Did you honestly forget, the staircases change on their own!"

Ron's ears went red. "I knew that!" He snapped. "I just didn't think it'd be on one we were _riding_ on!"

They stopped. The trio sighed in relief, and Harry wasted no time in climbing up the rest of the stairs. "Let's go up here."

"But Harry, this isn't our common room!" Hermione protested.

Ron pushed past her. "Who cares, let's just get off this thing before it moves again. Unless you just want to stay."

Hermione groaned, but she too, followed suit. "You two have your heads on backwards. We were supposed to be going back to the common room.."

Neither of them said anything. Harry opened the huge door that they had been lead to and it creaked loudly as it opened. Immediately upon entrance, Harry shivered; the room was dark, vast, and empty. It was also cold, and Ron, as he stood beside Harry, embraced himself.

"Does anyone feel like... like we're not supposed to be here?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course we're not supposed to be here! Were you listening to anything Dumbledore said at the Sorting feast? This is the Third floor, it's forbidden to students!"

Suddenly, a flame shot up in a completely dead candle, illuminating the room. Freaked, Harry backed away. "L-lets go.."

"Meow."

They turned; a cat was sitting in the middle of the doorway, blocking their exit. "It's Filch's cat!" Hermione squeaked.

"Run," Harry told them, and they took off running deeper into the room. He spotted a door ahead, and gestured to Ron and Hermione. "Quick, let's hide through that door!"

When they reached it, Harry pulled on the handle, and when it didn't open tried a bit more forcefully, but it would not budge. "It's locked!" He said angrily.

"We're done for!" Ron panicked, looking around wildly.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snapped, pushing Harry away from the door, pulling out her wand. He glared at her. "Alohomora!" She cast, and the door obediently opened. At once, the two boys followed, and she closed it behind them.

"'_Alohomora'_?" Ron questioned, frowning at her.

She looked as if she had met someone who didn't know what even a _book_ was. "Honestly, Ronald... _Standard Book Of Spells, Chapter Seven_. Did you neglect to even _skim_ through your books?"

"You sound like one of the teachers," Ron snapped irritably.

But Harry was not paying any attention to their quarreling; his eyes were wide as he surveyed a huge three-headed dog asleep directly above them. "G-guys.." His voice went up a pitch.

" – Well, either way, Filch is gone."

"Probably thinks this door was locked." Said Ron still sounding annoyed.

"It _was_ locked." Hermione corrected. Ron glared at her.

"And for good reason..." Harry said, having found his voice again.

The dog raised its three heads, then, and as one yawned, another opened its yellow eyes, finding them and letting out a growl. The other two followed suit, soon towering menacingly over them.

They screamed, and ran back out the door they had came, but the dog was trying to fit its large heads through, and with much effort and yelling, the trio managed to lock the door back up, all keeping their own heads attached.

"What the hell do they think they're doing?" Ron shouted as soon as they were safely away and going up the staircase that separated the boys and girls' dorms. "Keeping something like that, locked up in a school!"

"You don't use your eyes, do you?" Hermione panted. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

Ron looked at her incredulously. "I wasn't looking at its feet! Was a bit preoccupied with its heads! _Three_, Hermione! Or did you notice?"

"It was standing on a trap door," Hermione said waspishly, "So it wasn't there by accident. It's guarding something."

Now Harry turned to her, frowning deeply. "Guarding something...?"

"Yes," She huffed, as she stopped just outside the door that lead to the girls' dorms. "It only makes sense. Now, I'm off to bed, if you two don't mind," She glared at them. "Before either of you come up with yet another clever idea to get us killed. Or worse, expelled.."

And she was gone with a swish of her robes and the slamming of the door.

* * *

Severus couldn't concentrate. His grading wasn't getting ticking clock was annoying him, and after casting a silent "_Silencio_!" on it, he still could not bring himself to focus. He growled.

His mind was on Potter, and simply Potter. He grit his teeth. Only that boy could bring him to this restless state, and he damned the boy for it. The brat had to go and become Seeker, exactly as his bastard father had done. The path was chosen; Harry Potter was on the road to becoming more and more like James Potter, now, once he got a taste of that fame, once he got even a small grasp of that power, the power that made him think he could do whatever he wanted and not get into trouble for it, the power to have everyone pamper to his every whim.

He had not wanted this.

He had never wanted to meet the boy in the first place, but when he had, he had found that Harry was simply not at all like James Potter. He was polite, kind, and loyal, just as Lily had been. He was innocent, as she had been, just as courageous.

But now...

Now the boy was Gryffindor's Seeker, the same as James. Soon the boy would get arrogant, loving the attention that came with the game, the glory of winning, and it would change him. Change him into something Severus had been adamant to believe Harry had always been but had been greatly mistaken about – he would change into James Potter.

He cursed as realized he had given a P to a perfectly well done essay. Potter. All that was on his brain was fucking Potter! He tossed his quill across the room with a loud grunt of fury, his head in his hands. Harry's innocent smile, the kindness that was in his eyes, the love that was within that little boy's heart had made Severus feel as if he almost had Lily back. Almost.

He still looked exactly like James Potter, and that often made it hard; so he'd focused on the boy's eyes, Lily's eyes, and forgot the child's appearance. But there was no overlooking it. The boy was the spitting image of his father.

_I trust you with the promise that we made back then, that you will still protect Harry even if he becomes more like him, from all that might harm him._

Dumbledore's words came back to him. There was no doubt that he would still protect the boy, no matter if he had James' traits or not. But he could deny an intense anger, a hatred, at having to do it. It was all for Lily. He remembered that. Over the past month, he had had a different mind set, that it was not just for Lily, but for Harry as well. Along the way, he had become attached to the boy, even though he knew the consequences; even though he knew that he would come to regret it.

And so he had. He wished he could block out that sweet smile the boy had given him, erase those first few days that he had seen something in the little boy that had made him so eager to see more of him, his talents, his hopes, his dreams, his every wish; his happiness, his fears, all that the child yearned for, all that he was.

Because this was just too painful.

Even now, he could not deny that Lily still lived within the boy. But it was easier, far easier, to pretend. Pretend that there was no trace of the woman he loved, no recognition at all that the boy was in fact, Lily's son. He had to forget, forget any sort of bond he and the child might have formed. It would cause nothing but pain, reopen too many open wounds, and make them worse.

Lily. James. Their son. The son of the woman he loved and the man he hated. The green eyes of the girl he craved in the face of the boy who made his life a living hell. His own, personal hell. Forever cast with their child. Forever stuck with the pain.

All he could do now was to make his hell a little less miserable, and that was forget the boy even existed. Protect him, yes, because that was his vow to not only Dumbledore, but to Lily as well, but to forget him. Swallow up all the hatred he had of James and shovel it all upon the boy, his own foolproof revenge. Hate the boy with all he had, and he could bear this hell.

No doubt the child would come to hate him as well. It was just easier this way. If they hated each other, then they could not hurt one another, and Severus knew that in the end, he would hurt the boy, no matter what he became. And that thought alone would make him push Harry away.

It was the only thing he could do for Lily's son.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Hello, everyone! Sorry for the very late update. T_T Been busy, lol. Anyway, I want to take a moment to address a few reviews that brought up about the first potions class in the book not being a "misunderstanding". It wasn't. Harry crooning his eyebrow at Snape was complete disrespect, so naturally Snape took offense. In my first author's note, I mentioned that it was **movie! **Snape and Harry that had the misunderstanding, **not** the book versions. So this is following the movie. Sorry for any confusion!

Also about the following of which universe, I decided that I would follow the movies only until Half-Blood Prince. I have not read the first six books in the longest time as I do not have my books with me at my new residence, but back at my old place in Chicago, and am not able to get them for a while. So I know the movies better at the moment, as I have watched them multiple times recently. But I know book! Deathly Hallows extremely well, so I will definitely be following that one. As well as HBP. I also wanted to mention that I will actually probably be intertwining the two; there are some scenes that would make it easier for me to write that happened in the movies, and some in the books that would be easier. But rest assured, this will mainly stick to the canon.

With that, please enjoy this chapter, even though it's short. Next chapter will be much longer, as it's Snape and Harry's reconciliation. : ) Which I will be writing today too, to compensate for lack of updates. XD

* * *

**Chapter Four:**

"**Suspicions" **

Practicing for Quidditch had gone a lot smoother than Harry had expected. Wood seemed most impressed with his abilities, and by the end of the lesson had to take a whole ten minutes to get his breathing under control he was so excited about the upcoming match against Slytherin.

"Absolutely brilliant," He told Harry, looking completely ecstatic. "You are absolutely _brilliant_, Potter." The small boy blushed in response. He had never gotten much praise, not living with the Dursleys, so the fact someone seemed genuinely proud of his successes made Harry just want to swell up with pride. "Slytherin is going down!"

The match was a good week and a half away, and Harry decided not to remind Wood that he still had a lot of training and practicing to do before he could even hope to have a chance in the game. Nevertheless, he was somewhat confident he could do this; his father had, after all. And he would try and honor his dad's memory by giving it his best.

While most of the school was pretty excited about the upcoming match, a few were set more upon the Halloween feast, which was tomorrow night. To be honest, Harry was not looking forward to it. He'd learned from Hagrid, when he'd been down to see him last Thursday for tea, that it had been the night of October 31st, Halloween night, that Voldemort had entered Godric's Hollow and killed his parents.

"10 years ago on Halloween," Hagrid had sniffed, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. "Lily an' James dead... still can' believe it. An' you, just a baby, with yer scar and no parents... awful. Just awful, Harry. I was the one who pulled yeh from the rubble, yeh know."

Harry's stomach had churned, and he had quickly excused himself, not wanting to hear any more. So when the day of the feast arrived, Ron - as Hermione was nowhere to be found since Charms class this morning when Ron had upset her - could tell that something was bothering him. Harry had barely slept the night before, plagued with dreams of green light and a woman screaming and a high, cold laugh.

When it became time for dinner and everyone began to head down to the feast, Hermione was still not around, and when Harry asked Ron about it, the red-head simply shrugged it off. "Who knows where she is... good riddance, I say. But are you all right, Harry?" He frowned as they made their way to the Great Hall."You're really pale..."

Harry stared at the ground, unable to look him in the eyes. "He... he killed them tonight... ten years ago... Hagrid told me..." He found his voice cracking slightly.

Ron didn't know what to say, so he settled for giving Harry a sympathetic look. This prompted Harry to go on.

"It's just... I'm alive... and they're not. Dad died to protect both of us... Mum died because she protected me... it's kinda weird, though... last night, when I was lying in bed, and I strained my memory... I thought I could remember the way Mum held me... how strong her arms were when he was laughing at her, and..."

He stopped. He had just spotted Snape a little way's from them, who appeared to be watching them closely. It suddenly occurred to Harry that Snape had been listening, because as soon as he caught the man's eye, Snape seemed to jerk, almost as if he were trying to refocus his attention, glared at Harry, and without a backward glance, swept into the Great Hall. Harry watched him go, perplexed on why the man's expression had been so somber.

_He knew my Mum, _Harry remembered. _He must have been friendly with her... but then why does he hate me so much? _

_

* * *

_

To say that Halloween was not a day Severus Snape was exactly fond of would be an understatement. The students were even more lively than normal, annoying him to no end. As he sat at the staff table, he knew by the slight headache growing that he would need to take some potions before bed tonight.

As they ate, the other professors were discussing things that Severus cared to take no part in, but then McGonagall mentioned the one thing that had he had cared not to discuss, the one thing that had him so on edge today as it was.

"Ten years ago today, the Potters were killed. Only twenty-one years old... they were only five years out of Hogwarts when You-Know-Who attacked them..."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Lily and James Potter were young, much too young, to have met such an unfortunate end. And Harry would have met that same end, too young to have even lived at all, had Lily not sacrificed herself..."

Hagrid dabbed at his eyes. "Yes, tis all very sad," He agreed. "Tol' Harry about it... tha' it was tonight... shoul'nt have mentioned it...poor boy, prob'ly thinkin' 'bout it..."

Snape's black eyes fell over the Gryffindor table as he took a good look at Harry. The child was barely eating, poking at his food whilst his classmates dug in and laughed amongst themselves, happily chatting away. The boy looked tired and distant, and Snape knew that without a doubt, Harry had spent most of the last night crying, wishing for the parents he did not have. A wave of sympathy for the small child washed over him, but Severus did not let it linger. He would not feel sorry for the boy.

Gruffly, Snape blocked out the rest of the conversation about the Potter's, putting on a cool mask of indifference should any one try and chance a glimpse of his expression. As he looked around the table, however, Snape saw that Quirrel was not present. How suspicious...

Just then, the double doors were pushed open violently, and - _speak of the devil_, Snape sneered - Quirrel came sprinting into the hall, looking terrified. "TROLL! In the dungeon! Troll in the dungeon!"

_Oh, for Merlin's sake, _Snape rolled his eyes at the man's dramatics. Dumbledore, however, stood up.

Every head seemed to find the teacher, who took a breath and squeaked, "Thought you ought to know..." and promptly collapsed. Almost at once, all hell broke loose. The students started screaming, and Severus noticed that Harry, while looking alarmed, had his hand on his scar again.

"SIIIIIILENCE!" Dumbledore called, and everyone stopped moving, all falling quiet. "Everyone will please, not panic! Now, Prefects will lead their house back to their dormitories. Teachers will follow me to the dungeons."

Students and teachers alike began to obey at once, and Severus, getting an idea, retreated, not to the dungeons, but through the door behind him, that led to the third floor. He had a bad quickly and fluidly, his head swam with questions. What was Quirrel planning? Obviously this was a ruse, to get everyone away, but for what? He came to a stop, eyes widening as the answer came to him.

The stone. Quirrel was planning to steal it! He figured no one could stop him, with all the commotion, that he could get his hands on it. Like hell that was going to happen. A few minutes later, Snape reached the door that concealed the three-headed dog Fluffy, and wrenched it open, not the least bit surprised when he found Quirrel standing in the room.

Quirrel blanched, placing his arms behind his back and giving a twitchy smile. "O-oh, S-Severus, I..."

"Well, Quirrel," Snape said silkily, ignoring the man's false attempt at innocence, "That was a clever idea, planting that ruse, pretending to collapse so that you might look innocent and make your way up here without detection. I have to commend you. You can fool the other teachers, you can fool the Headmaster. However, you'll find that you can't fool... me."

Quirrel looked shocked, his fingers fumbling. "S-S-Severus! N-no idea what y-y-you're t-talking about!"

Snape took out his wand, eyes narrowed, and pointed it at him. "Lies, Quirrel. I can see through them clearly. You planned the troll, didn't you? Tell me, is there even a troll in the castle? Or was that a lie as well?"

The man swallowed thickly, looking nervous. "S-Severus, what is the m-meaning of t-this? Of c-course there's a t-troll in the c-castle!"

"Don't play stupid," Snape snapped, losing his patience. "I know you planned this. You're after the stone!"

And then it happened so fast Severus could barely blink; Suddenly, his leg was caught in the jaws of one of the three heads, and it was gnawing and tearing on his flesh. Giving a pained yell, Severus blasted the three-headed dog off of him with a strong disarming spell, not caring as the dog fell backward against the wall, falling unconscious. "Bloody menace," He cursed, and cast a quick spell to control the blood flow slightly until he could get a blood replenishing potion. He turned back to Quirrel, seething.

"You are going to take me to that troll at once."

Quirrel nodded, obeying at once. They walked briskly in silence towards the dungeons, and as they rounded the second to last hallway, they saw Minerva quickly approaching them.

"Oh, Severus," She panted, looking relieved. "I just heard loud movement from inside the girl's washroom as well as the sound of screaming. I think there may be a student trapped inside!"

Wasting no time, the three professors hurried into the girl's washroom, skidding to a halt when they saw Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley standing over the unconscious body of the troll.

Minerva gasped, placing a hand over her heart. "Oh my goodness... explain yourselves, both of you!" She demanded of them.

Both boys opened their mouths to reply, but the one who spoke was Hermione Granger.

"It's my fault, Professor McGonagall."

Minerva looked at her student, sputtering. "M-Miss Granger?"

The girl bowed her head. "I went looking for the troll. I'd read about them and thought I could handle it. But I was wrong... if Harry and Ron hadn't come and found me.. I'd probably be dead."

Snape felt eyes on him, then, and he turned his head to look into the green orbs of Harry Potter, who was looking at him curiously. Or more specifically, the wound he'd received from Fluffy. He pulled his robs over his wounded, bloody leg, covering it as he returned the boy's gaze. He did not like the way the child was looking at him, with those untrusting eyes, and with annoyance, Snape looked away, his attention back on Minerva, who was still chastising her pupil.

"... Was an extremely foolish thing to do, Miss Granger. Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your serious lack of judgment." She looked back at the boys. "And as for you two gentlemen, well I hope you realize how fortunate you are. Not many First year students could take on a fully grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale. Five points will be awarded to each of you."

They grinned. Minerva looked simply exasperated as she shook her head at Snape. "For sheer dumb luck," She explained, and exited the washroom. Snape turned to leave as well, and nearly bumped into Quirrel, who motioned for him to go first. Giving one quick glance at Harry, and deciding that he was safe at the moment with his friends present, left as well.

But as he stalked away, he could not shake his feelings from the look Harry had given him, that look of pure distrust and suspicion. He knew the boy suspected he might be behind something, and he wished, although he would never admit it to himself, that Harry would realize that it was Quirrel that he needed to be fearful of.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **Angsty Harry this chapter. Some capslock at one part. XD Also, from the abuse Harry suffered at the Dursleys, the boy is a little bit more insecure than he is in the canon.

**Chapter Five:**

"**Reconciled" **

It was the big day.

Harry was beyond nervous; no, actually, he was absolutely terrified. He toyed with his breakfast, not feeling the least bit hungry. Even though Ron and Hermione (who had finally made up after the troll incident) encouraged him to eat, he just was not hungry, and he felt if he did eat, his stomach would just throw up all of the contents it was churning so badly. Just the smell of food alone made him want to vomit.

"I'm not hungry," He explained, setting down his silver ware. "I don't feel up to eating.."

Ron and Hermione looked ready to protest, when..

"Good luck today, Potter," Drawled a voice from behind him.

Stunned, Harry turned around to look at Snape, who was not looking at him not with the dislike Harry had come to know, but an expression that Harry couldn't quite decipher. He seemed almost... gentle. He smiled slightly as Harry stared at him. "Then again, now that you've proven yourself against a troll, a little game of Quidditch should be easy work for you."

_Was that a compliment?_ Harry wondered, and he gave Snape a small, unsure smile in return.

"Even if it _is_ against Slytherin." It seemed to Harry like Snape couldn't make up his mind; one minute he was complimenting Harry and wishing him luck and the next he was making Harry even more nervous by reminding him who he was up against. Snape seemed to not know what else to say, because he caught everyone's gaping mouths at the table, his eyes darting around wildly before he randomly swept away, and Harry watched his retreating back, and noticed that the man was limping.

"That explains the blood," He thought out loud.

Hermione turned to him, confused. "Blood?"

"Snape tried to get past that dog," Harry said determinedly. "He wants what ever that dog's guarding... he got himself bitten, Hermione. That's why he's limping."

"But why would anyone go near that dog?" She asked.

Harry bit his lip. "I think it's because the day I was at Gringott's, Hagrid took something out of one of the vaults, said it was Hogwarts business, very secret, and that he couldn't tell me about it. But what ever it is, Snape wants it."

Hermione looked shocked. "Harry, I know you and Snape have not seen eye to eye lately, but you can't just accuse him of doing something like – "

"He's up to something," Harry spat, as he continued to watch Snape, who was now outside the Great Hall, engaged in conversation with Dumbledore. "He's lying to Dumbledore, and he was probably trying to get to know me so he could betray me too..."

The girl sighed. "Honestly, Harry, I think you're letting your anger and hurt feelings cloud your judgement; Snape is unpleasant, but that doesn't mean he's got some secret ploy or that he's got it out for you."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Ron shook his head, telling him silently to drop it. Closing his mouth, but not done with this topic by a long shot, they were distracted when a small, snowy owl zoomed into the hall, a long, slender package in it's mouth.

"Hedwig," Harry's eyes creased. His owl never came to give him mail, simply because he never got any. But here she was, flying towards him, and dropped the package directly into his arms. He looked at his friends. "I never get mail..."

"Oh, just open it," Ron prompted, and together, the trio undid the bindings, and pulled the wrappings away to see a shiny, brand new broomstick.

"It's a broomstick," Harry said breathlessly.

Ron gasped excitedly. "That's not just a broomstick, Harry, it's a Nimbus Two Thousand!"

Wood nearly fainted when he saw it. "The new model! The Slytherin's are playing with two models previous..."

Flabbergasted, Harry stroked his new broom. "But... who would buy this...? For me...?"

His fingers fumbled on something, something small and sharp. Pulling it out, Harry saw that it was a small card. All that was written on it was three words.

_Do your best. _

"Do your...?"

He trailed off as Snape turned, and he glanced up to catch the man's eye, who was now looking at him from the distance with an unreadable expression, although Harry understood the message behind those black eyes that told him what he wanted to know. Smiling brightly, Harry turned back to his friends, shaking his head. "I really don't get that guy."

Ron, who had followed where Harry had been looking, choked on his drink. "You mean...?" He looked from the broom, to where Snape stood, to Harry, to the broom, and to Snape again. "You mean... _Snape_? He did this...?"

Harry simply nodded, smiling.

Wood was speechless, looking as if he might collapse from the shock.

Hermione beamed. "Oh, isn't this wonderful, Harry? This must be his way of apologizing to you..."

Harry blinked. He hadn't thought of that. "Yeah... yeah, that must be it!" He grinned, wanting nothing more than to run up to Snape and thank him, but he was sure Snape would not approve of that sort of behavior. Plus, it would tarnish the man's reputation if anyone else knew that Snape, head of Slytherin with a known vendetta against the Gryffindors just bought Harry Potter, Snape's apparent most loathed student who just happened to be in said house, a broom stick that would surely aid him in today's match.

Deciding that he would talk to Snape afterwards, and feeling confident now that he would win, Harry wolfed down his breakfast, eager and considerably less nervous about the match. Had he been looking at Snape still, he might have seen the man smile ever so slightly at his reaction.

"That was unexpected, Severus. You actually bought the boy a broomstick."

Snape looked back at Albus and scowled. "I'm worried Quirrel might try something, and it would not bode well to have the boy on a broom stick that can possibly fall to pieces at any moment and create an opening for him to fall to his death. He needed a sturdy broom. You're the one who told me to protect the boy to the best of my abilities, Albus. For Lily."

Albus's blue eyes twinkled. "Indeed I did, my boy." He didn't sound as if he was convinced.

"It was for Lily!" Snape snapped, "_Not _because I want the brat to become even _more_ like his damned father. I already told you, Albus, he is James Potter's son, and nothing, _nothing_, can change that! I will not forget – "

"No one ever expected you to," Said Albus gently. "But what you need to realize, Severus, is that just because the child shows an interest in the sport James Potter did, does not mean he's entirely like his father. We've discussed this. Harry is a mixture of both his parents, with Lily being the dominant side, but like you've said yourself, it would be ignorant of you to assume there's none of James in him. This is just one of things that Harry got from his father. Please try not to condemn the boy and hate him for such a simple matter as Quidditch."

When Snape said nothing, Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know Harry is a source of unquestionable pain and torment for you, my boy, and I can not fathom the endless amount of constant conflict and suffering inside your heart every time you look at the boy, being reminded, every second of the day, of the torture James put you through, and the anguish of losing Lily. An old man like me can not possibly understand your amount of suffering. But I can empathize. I only ask of one thing, Severus, and that is that you try and see Harry for who he really is. He's not James, and he is not Lily. He's Harry. A little boy who is innocent in the rivalry you had with his father. He did not know his parents, had no time to be taught their traits and holds nothing of them except for the blood that runs through his veins."

Snape looked uncertain. Albus squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Lily would not have wanted this for the two of you. She would want you to cherish and love that child just as she had done, the very reason she died. She loved her son more than anything, died knowing that he would be lost and scared in the world on his own. That child needs you, Severus." He let go of Snape's shoulder, who looked back up into the cerulean eyes with his filled with nothing but pain and tears.

"Lily would have wanted that."

Silence lingered between them for a moment, and without bothering to give a reply, Snape simply grunted and walked away, out into the Quidditch pitch. He needed some time to think.

The frosty air that meant winter was quickly approaching did not soothe him. Instead, it only made him even more angry. How the hell would Albus know what Lily would have wanted? She was dead. Dead because of that brat. If Potter hadn't been born, Lily would not have died. His eyes hardened. If only Lily had stepped aside, left the little brat to die, then she would...

He stopped this thinking, shaking his head. No, if there was one thing he knew about Lily Evans it was that she loved her child. She had died to save him, and she would not have liked to have known that Severus was having such terrible thoughts about her son. But he could not help it; he felt resentment and anger at her son, because he had lived and she hadn't, and for the longest time he had wished it had been Potter and his spawn, not that wonderful woman he loved, even though he knew that blaming the child for Lily's death was just his own misdirected rage.

The real enemy here was Voldemort. And himself. If he hadn't told Voldemort of the prophecy, Lily would not have died. If Voldemort had not attacked the Potter's that night in Godric's Hollow, Lily would still be alive, with James, and Harry would have parents to love and care for him. It occurred to him suddenly that some of the resentment he felt towards Harry was simply the resentment at himself, placed upon the boy because it was easier. It was easier to blame the son, as he had lived, and the mother had not.

But he knew it was unjustified. He just didn't know what else he could feel.

"A bit chilly today," Remarked a voice, causing the potions master to snap out of his thoughts. Flitwick took a seat in front of Snape on the bench. "Nice weather for a game, though."

"Indeed," He replied in his usual drawl. More and more teachers were approaching, and the student boxes were rapidly filling up. He gave a sneer when Quirrel took a seat behind him. Of course, he not be able to watch the man now, but he would keep his eyes on Harry instead.

Once everyone was seated, the curtains opened, and the Gryffindors ascended their brooms. Snape immediately spotted the small, black-haired green-eyed boy, on the nicest broom of the lot, soar high into the air, farther than anybody else, and then remain simply stationary. As Snape watched him, he saw the boy looked incredibly nervous again. Then the Slytherins took flight, and the match began.

The game passed in a whirlwind of color, sound, ball-throwing and students falling from their brooms, and then the snitch appeared in front of Harry and the boy zoomed forward at lightening speed to catch it. And then it happened; the broom gave a wild jerk, and went absolutely crazy, attempting to throw Harry off of it. Snape's eyes widened as he realized what was happening – the broom was being jinxed.

_Damn you, Quirrel_, Snape thought, clenching his teeth, and kept his eyes on the boy as he began to mutter the counter-curse. But it only seemed to get worse, not better, and Harry Potter fell, and Snape momentarily was struck with panic, before the boy grabbed a hold of the handle with one hand, dangling in the air. Harry's face was white with fear, and he tightened his grip on the broom as his sweaty palms almost released it.

_Hold on, you stupid boy, don't you dare let go. _Severus moved his mouth faster, barely restraining himself from turning around and punching Quirrel straight in the face. _Damn it, Potter, so help me if you let go of that broom... _

But he was panicking; he knew that a spell of this caliber could not be thwarted for very much longer with simply a counter-curse, but Snape could not think of anything else to do. His heart was leaping in his throat as Harry's broom gave another huge jerk attempting to toss him off, and for a moment, Harry almost fell to his death.

With reflexes Snape was thankful the boy had inherited from his father, the child managed to grab hold again, whimpering slightly as he got a good look at the ground and the distance he would fall. Muttering furiously, Severus never wished death upon someone more than he wished it on Quirrel right now. No... Voldemort.

_You dare attempt to kill Lily's child, Voldemort? I will not let you kill the son she died to save! Not as long as I'm still breathing! Harry Potter is protected... by me!_

Suddenly, he thought he heard the sound of a small voice somewhere close to him, and then a burst erupted, and then someone was screaming at him, "_Fire_! You're on fire!"

"What?" Snape looked away from Harry, breaking his concentration, and stood up so quickly he extended his arm behind him from the motion, knocking Quirrel over in the process. Restraining a smirk, Snape put out the flames that had somehow made their way onto his robes. But he knew how.

_Very nice decoy, Granger_. He almost wanted to award the girl points. _Shame it couldn't have been him on the receiving end, however..._

Severus looked back up at the boy he was supposed to be saving, and saw that the distraction had worked; Harry clambered back onto his broom, and Severus felt a weight lift his shoulders. But then the boy, as he reached for the snitch along with the Slytherin Seeker, tripped and fell onto the ground. When he stood, he made gestures as if he was going to vomit, and the golden snitch popped out of his mouth, securing the match for Gryffindor.

Explosions of happy cheers accelerated around him, and Snape felt a sharp stab of annoyance, having helped the boy to victory. Though as he looked down him, his beaming grin, the way his eyes were lit with happiness, he found he could not be too angry. In fact, if he would admit it to himself, he felt even...a little bit _proud_ of the boy.

Quickly dismissing these feelings, Snape made his way through the crowd, intent on going back to the dungeons and being left alone.

"What... Snape...? But – "

"I'm sorry, Harry, but that's what I saw."

Harry was stricken. "But Snape wouldn't try to hurt me!" He protested, his eyes watering with tears. He was still in his Quidditch robes; the snitch lay forgotten on the chair beside the fire as they sat in the common room. It had been not even an hour since he had won the match, and Harry had gone from positively glowing to angry and upset.

Hermione sighed sadly, shaking her head. "I didn't want to believe it either, but I saw him clearly jinxing your broom. His mouth was moving, and his eyes never left you. That's the number one rule of casting jinxes. He wasn't even blinking."

Harry took a deep breath trying to calm himself. "He wouldn't try to kill me... you must be... I..."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione watched him tearfully. "I wish I hadn't seen what I saw. But there's no way around it. Professor Snape was trying to kill you."

Tears came so quickly that he could not stop them. He turned and ran, out the portrait hole, down the staircases, as fast as his legs would carry him and did not care who saw him or who spoke to him; he had one destination and one destination only, and wanted to see only one person right now.

Anger and sadness took over his entire body, and he shook with it as he ran and ran towards the dungeons. He did not stop to knock on the door, he simply burst in, and stared hatefully into the shocked face of Severus Snape.

Snape took one glance at Harry's face before he looked alarmed and stood up. "Potter, what —?"

"YOU LIAR!" Harry screamed loudly, his voice echoing along the walls. "YOU DAMNED LIAR, SNAPE! YOU MADE ME BELIEVE YOU! YOU MADE ME TRUST YOU!"

And suddenly the little boy was running at Snape and beating his tiny fists on the man's torso as he sobbed and raged. "I FELT SAFE WHEN I WAS WITH YOU! I FELT YOU WOULD NEVER HURT ME, AND YET YOU DID! I FELT LIKE YOU CARED WHAT HAPPENED TO ME BUT YOU'RE JUST A LYING SNIVELING TRAITOR YOU BIG – "

Snape grabbed his arms roughly, attempting to get the irate boy off of him. "Potter, what the hell has gotten into you? Get your hands off of me at once or so help me – !"

"OR WHAT?" Harry snapped, bursting into a new stream of angry tears, "OR YOU'LL TRY TO KILL ME AGAIN?"

Snape stopped, eyes widening dramatically. Kill him...? What..? "Potter, what are you talking about? I've NEVER tried to kill you!"

"Yes, you did!" Harry cried, attempting to hit Snape again. "Hermione told me! You put a jinx on my broom! She saw you!"

Snape did not relent the grip he had on the boy, but his eyes softened somewhat. So... that's what it was. He had been mistakenly identified as the culprit for the curse, rather than Quirrel. Granger was definitely bright, but even with all the material she read, she would never understand that some jinxes were much more dangerous than by just simply saying it aloud. Some could be used silently. That explained why the boy was so upset..

"Pot – Harry, please listen to me," He spoke gently. "Look at me."

He felt nothing but the use of the boy's first name would calm him, and so it did. The child relaxed, but the tears continued to fall silently down his face, and even so, he looked at his professor, hurt green eyes beseeching him.

"It was not me who tried to kill you. I was performing the counter-curse that would save you."

Harry blinked. "Counter-curse?" He sounded so vulnerable, so scared to trust...

"Yes," Snape told him, his eyes never leaving Harry's. "It was all I could do to keep you on your broom, but he had a stronger jinx than what I could counter... had it been any longer, you would have plummeted to your death." He sighed as he released the boy. "Quirrel was the one who jinxed your broom, Harry. He was the one who tried to kill you."

He let that register in the boy's mind, watching him carefully. Finally, Harry said. "So... so you were trying to save me?"

"Yes, Potter, that is what I just finished explaining to you," Snape said sarcastically, but he knew Harry knew it was not in a harsh tone.

And Snape didn't know how it happened, but all of a sudden, his arms were filled with a crying and laughing little boy who was embracing him tightly. Thunderstruck, and not knowing what to do, because students did NOT hug him – oh, but this student did. This wonderful boy who had come from the most amazing woman he'd ever known – Severus settled for awkwardly patting the boy on the back, and Harry let up, smiling.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," He whispered. "For saving my life. And the broomstick!"

Snape waved a hand. "It's my duty to protect you, Potter. Now," He turned, heading back to his desk, "Because you barged in here unannounced and saw fit to put your hands on me, you have a week's worth of detention scrubbing cauldron's until curfew each evening."

Harry groaned.

"But..." Snape gave him a smirk over his shoulder. "Afterwards, how about you work on that extra credit I never kept my promise for?"

At Harry's cheerful laugh and instant "Yes!", Snape found out something he hadn't been aware of for the longest time, something he had drifted around and had never wanted to admit...

He had – with all that was in him - grown to care about Harry Potter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Hints of child abuse/neglect from the Dursleys this chapter. It slightly bothers me that no teacher at Hogwarts ever gave any thought to Harry's relatives and the way they were treating him. While it was never outright stated it was child abuse in the books/movies, the implication is there, and it's sadly one of the truest aspects of this series. I don't know how much I'm going to go into with it, but I definitely wanted to address it. Having been a victim of abuse myself, I felt it should have been brought up even just a little.

I apologize if the topic makes anyone uncomfortable, and feel free to skip this chapter if you wish to avoid reading about it.

* * *

**Chapter Six:**

"**The Mirror Of Erised"**

Christmas was quickly approaching. With less than a week away from holiday break, the students of Hogwarts were in a state of continued cheerfulness and frenzied antics, and Severus Snape thought his head would explode from the many migraines he was developing dealing with the overly cheerful brats.

Granted, one good thing that came out of the holidays every year was that almost all of the little dunderheads would be gone, spending their time at home with their precious families, and he would get a well deserved break from the pests for a couple of weeks and when term resumed, he could get back to his much anticipated hobby of tormenting them.

Dumbledore, having gone to each head of house and requested a list for all those who wished to remain at the school for the break, snorted as McGonagall handed him the mostly finished list.

"Just your house left, Severus," She said in a clipped sort of tone. "Although naturally, all of your snakes go home for the holidays."

"Yes," He replied nonchalantly, his eyes sweeping over the list. There were only five students staying this year. To his horror and annoyance, the young Weasley boy was one of them. He snorted again. When his eyes traveled further down the list, he noticed that Harry Potter was also among them.

Frowning, he looked at Minerva. "Why is Potter staying here for the holidays? Surely, his aunt and uncle will be wanting him to be at home with them...?"

McGonagall's jaw tightened. "Potter has told me that he wishes to remain here because he feels he will be, forgive me, _bothering_ his relatives by going home for Christmas. When I attempted to question him about it, he desired not to talk about it."

Snape's eyebrows creased. "Interesting. One would think he would be excited to go home, getting all of the gifts and sweets."

McGonagall sighed. "I know you don't know much about Potter's family, but the night Lily and James died and Harry was to be sent to Lily's sister and her husband – " She ignored Severus's slight jump at the mention of Lily – "I sat outside that house all day and watched them. They were absolutely horrible. The Dursley man was a horrendous pig, the child was obnoxious and very spoiled, and the woman, Petunia, was nosey and snobbish. They were the worst kind of Muggles I'd ever seen. I told Albus, right from the beginning, that Harry was going to have a trying life there, in the presence of people who despised magic..."

Severus's eyes flashed. "What are you getting at, Minerva?"

She looked uncomfortable, something Snape found disturbing considering her upheld demeanor. "I'm saying, Severus, that I don't feel Harry Potter is completely loved there. From the impressions I got of them, they hate anyone and anything to do with magic. While I don't think Harry is being harmed there, I believe there is a large matter of negligence.."

"Have you spoken to the Headmaster about this?" Severus asked, frowning deeply.

She sighed again and shook her head. "No, and I don't intend to. When I spoke of them in the past and expressed my feelings to him, Albus claimed that Harry had to remain there because of Lily's blood protection."

"Hmm..."

This was very interesting indeed. From what he knew, Harry Potter was being well cared for, and although Lily's sister, Petunia – _Tuney_, he sneered – was unpleasant and had been extremely jealous and hateful of Lily, he could not imagine the woman taking it out on her nephew, on Lily's child..

_But hadn't I done the same thing? _He thought. _Wasn't I no better than Petunia, passing on my hatred for one of the boy's parents onto the child himself? _

No, he hadn't been any better. But he was now; he saw past his hatred, the complete, unjustified hatred, and let that hatred remain where it belonged, now – with the boy's dead father. The man was dead, and Severus felt perfectly happy hating the man's memory. But Petunia... if she did hate the child the way she hated Lily when they were younger like Severus remembered, then it would not to be hard to imagine her treating Harry viciously, with the same contempt as her dead sister.

But surely, she had grown up, matured? Surely, by now, she would have let go of that hatred...?

Something in Severus told him that it wasn't likely.

Coming out of his thoughts, Severus observed her through his dark eyes as a brown owl swooped in to the Great Hall and a small note was dropped to Minerva. "Perhaps I will ask the boy about it."

She scoffed, affronted. "Why would he even tell you, Severus, with the way you treat him?"

He sighed. "Potter and I have reached an..._ understanding_, as of late. I have overlooked my hatred for the boy's father and left said hatred in the past, where it belongs and shall remain. He is not his father, therefore I have nothing against him."

Her lips twitched. "Why, Severus. Never would I have thought that you'd come to like James Potter's son."

He glowered at her. "He is Lily's son also, Minerva, or have you forgotten?"

There was a moment's silence in which Minerva opened the note, and read it before shaking her head. But then she raised her eyes to meet Severus's gaze, and she smiled. "Of course I have not forgotten, Severus. But for the longest time, I had feared that _you_ had. I am pleased you have let the past be left in the past and come to appreciate Lily's son. Do let me know if he speaks with you about his relatives, I must be going, Peeves is making a ruckus in the Gryffindor common room – "

And she swept past him.

When Harry came in to work on his last extra credit assignment in the dungeons that evening, chipper as ever, Severus decided he'd question the boy about what he and Minerva had discussed.

"I saw the list of the students staying over break this morning," He began, scowling as he printed a _'T' _on an absolutely despicable attempt of an essay one of the idiotic students had done. He hated grading.

Through his lashes, he saw Harry fidget nervously. "You did, sir?"

"Yes," Snape answered, as he piled the paper among the others that were stacked beside him and turned obsidian eyes to look at Harry, "I saw you had decided to stay here for your holiday. I was curious as to why. Wouldn't you rather be at home with your relatives?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed together, and a dark look appeared in his eyes as he scribbled harder on his paper. "Not really... sir. I would only be a bother to them."

Snape overlooked Harry's slightly hard tone and folded his hands together as he watched the small boy intently. His entire posture had changed. "What makes you think you'd bother them, Potter? They're your family. Surely they'd love to have you at home with them?"

Harry's shoulders hunched together, alerting Snape to the fact that the boy was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "I just... can we please not talk about this, sir?"

"No, we can not," Snape said firmly. "I asked you a question, Potter. You'd do well to answer it."

The boy looked up from his work and glared at him. "I don't want to talk about the Dursley's, Professor. They don't want me there to ruin their holiday, and I don't want to be there so they can ruin mine. I want to be away from them for once!"

For a moment, the boy seemed to think he had said too much; he paled, and his eyes widened, and he made a move to get up and flee but Snape hissed, "_You had better stay seated!_" and Harry sat back down, swallowing thickly, and lowered his gaze back to the parchment.

"I just don't want to be there, Professor," The boy lowered his voice. "Please... can we just end talking about them? Please?"

Normally, Snape would not have done so. Normally, he would have pushed the issue further...

But because the boy had begged him, and he saw the tears threatening in the child's eyes, Snape gave a curt nod, and went back to his grading. "Very well, Potter. We will drop the subject for the time being. However, I will be mentioning it again, and I expect some answers when I do. Do you understand?"

Harry was glaring so fiercely at his parchment it would not have been unlikely if he'd burnt a hole in it. But he gave a stiff nod and an equally as stiff "Yes, sir," before he, too, went back to his work.

The rest of the lesson passed in silence, silence that both student and teacher were equally grateful for.

* * *

The rest of the week passed so quickly, that to Severus's amusement, Weasley seemed to have second thoughts about staying once he learned that the feared Potions Master would be as well.

"Why does Snape have to stay here?" He whispered frantically to Harry the first morning of the holidays at breakfast. "Doesn't the greasy bat have somewhere else to be, like, say, the zoo?"

"Mr. Weasley," Snape said silkily as he appeared behind the boys, and resisted the urge to smirk at the redhead's horror stricken expression. "Perhaps I ought to write your mother for your cheek? I daresay Molly would not be pleased with her son if she learned he was speaking so disrespectfully about one of his Professors, especially around the holidays, wouldn't you agree?"

Ron's ears went red. "No, sir. Sorry, sir." He mumbled.

Snape sneered at the apology and instead turned his attention to Harry, inclining his head. "Mr. Potter. You should perhaps help your friend acquire some breakfast and a seat lest I take points for the untimely entrances."

Harry nodded quickly. "Yes, sir." He lead Ron away, and content, Snape stalked towards the table, taking a seat next to Albus.

"Headmaster." He greeted respectfully.

"Ah, Severus, good morning to you!" Dumbledore was as cheerful as ever this morning, Severus noted grimly. "I take it you are keen to enjoy your holiday?"

"Indeed," He drawled as Ron and Harry, now both carrying their breakfast plates, sat down opposite them.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," The old man smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. "Are you enjoying your holiday thus far?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Albus, Christmas break just began today."

"Oh, yes, yes," Dumbledore did not seemed chagrined at all that Severus had lightly chastised him and instead seemed to radiate even more, to Severus's continued annoyance. "Rather I should say, are you looking forward to the break?"

"Yes, sir," The boys answered in unison.

"Good, good!" Dumbledore beamed. "Now, as all of the professors except for Professor Snape, Professor Quirrel, Filch, and myself are gone for the holidays, I would like to remind you that should either of you need anything, you may come to any one of us. Ah, Quirinus, good morning!"

Severus saw Harry's eyes widen as Quirrel appeared behind him and the boy turned to look at him. Snape did not miss the animosity that passed Quirrel's eyes as he stared down at the boy, giving that fake, wide, twitchy smile at Snape had come to wish he could hex straight off.

"G-good mor-rning, Headmaster. S-S-Severus," He inclined his head at Snape. "Mr. P-P-Potter, Mr. W-W-Weasley."

Harry's face scrunched up as he turned back, and Severus could tell the boy had lost his appetite as he gazed disinterestedly back down at his food, and suddenly gave a wince as he raised his hand to his scar. Quirrel gave a smirk of amusement, and Snape had to stop himself from hexing the bastard right there and then.

"Are you all right, Harry?"Dumbledore asked the boy worriedly as Harry gave prolonged winces and rubbed at his scar furiously.

"Y-yeah," Harry hissed, closing his eyes tightly. "Just a quick pain, it'll go away in a moment..."

Snape's lip curled. "Or twenty, depending on, ah... present company. Potter, perhaps you ought to rest today."

As Ron gazed worriedly at him, Harry nodded, his hand still upon his scar as he stood. "Yeah," He replied shakily. "I don't feel so good..."

As he turned and met Quirrel's eyes, the boy gave a sharp cry of pain and he promptly fell over and collapsed.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, running to his best friend's aid. Dumbledore stood, and Severus made his way over to Harry in a flash, and pushed Quirrel away from the unconscious child as he joined Mr. Weasley in tending to him. "Move!"

"Oh, the dear boy!" Quirrel feigned shock as he regained his footing after Severus had shoved him to the side. "I do hope he is all right!"

At that moment, Harry awoke, pale and confused, but looking less sickly than moments before. "Professor?" He spoke softly as he recognized Snape and attempted to get up, but Snape shook his head and gently pushed the child back down.

"You collapsed, Potter. Don't attempt to get up for a while. I will fetch a pain relieving potion."

Snape got to his feet and glared hatefully at Quirrel before he swept from the Great Hall, robes billowing behind him.

Harry recovered quickly over the next two days. Christmas morning had indeed been a huge aid in the boy's mood as well, and with the task of getting into the Restricted section to find out more about the Nicholas Flamel hanging over him, Harry decided to take his father's old invisibility cloak that was now passed onto him as of this morning to do just that.

His hands were sweating profusely as he made his way into the Restricted section. Although he had the cloak, he still couldn't help but feel a little bit apprehensive. Of course, he knew he'd be discovered immediately if Quirrel were to find him. His scar would see to that. He did not know exactly what it meant that his scar hurt him every time Quirrel was around, but all the same, he wanted to avoid him if he could. So he prayed he would not find the man on his journey back.

The small section was dark and scary-looking, Harry thought. He could see why it was restricted. Even during the day, he was sure the aura of the room was the same, because a cold chill was sweeping up his spine that had nothing to do with thoughts of Quirrel.

He quickly pulled off the cloak and began his search. Fire Eaters. Fifteenth Century Fiends... but no Flamel. Although there was a book that he could not quite make out the last letter. Flame something. He'd take a chance. He pulled the book off of the shelf and flipped it open to a random page. At once, a face emerged from the book, eliciting a horrible scream.

"Agh!" Harry slammed the book shut and replaced it, heart hammering in his throat.

"Who's there?" Called a voice. Filch.

Harry's breath hitched. "Filch," He murmured, his heart still thumping loudly in his throat, and he snatched the cloak from underneath the lantern, causing it to fall to the floor with a loud shatter, glass spilling across the floor. He pulled the cloak back over himself as Filch rounded the corner where he had been just a moment before.

"Who is it? Show yourself!"

Harry, calmer now, slowly eased himself out of the door, back into the corridor. He did not even make it completely around the next corner when he gasped, as Professor Quirrel was tossed against the wall, much to Harry's shock, by Professor Snape.

"Severus, I-I thought, I..."

Snape was holding the man up by his collar, pinning him securely against the wall. "You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrel," He hissed. "I will not let you hurt Harry. Under any circumstances."

"W-What do you m-mean, S-Severus? Surely, you k-know, I'd never h-hurt that b-boy."

Harry was watching with baited breath. He didn't know why, but his heart felt warm...

Snape growled, pinning the man even more tightly. "You know perfectly well what I mean, Quirrel. Don't play me for fool, I am well aware what you are up to, especially in matters concerning Harry Potter. I am going to make this clear; you will not touch him. I will not permit it. Any attempt you make on his life, the pay back is going to come to you twice as strong. We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to decide where your loyalties lie."

Filch chose that moment to round the corner, and Snape hastily released Quirrel. "Ah, Professors." He held up a dead, broken lantern. "Just found this in the Restricted section. It's still hot, which means there's a student out of bed!"

"Ah," Snape replied, and Harry's heart plummeted as Snape looked to the spot where Harry was standing, as if he could see him clearly. "I'll be along in a moment," He said silkily, and Filch, and Quirrel, who thought better than to wait for Snape, took off at once. Once he made sure they were gone, Snape sighed. "Off with the cloak, Potter."

Feeling extremely guilty, Harry pulled off the cloak, not meeting his Professor's eyes as he stared at the ground, red in the face from embarrassment. There was silence, and not hearing the yelling he had expected, Harry looked up into Snape's face.

But Snape was pointing at the door just a little way's behind them. "In," He ordered, and Harry did not need telling twice. He obeyed at once, and Snape followed closely behind him until they were both in the room and Snape closed the door.

At once, he rounded on Harry. "You idiot child!" He barked, and Harry flinched, staring at the floor again. "What were you thinking? Students are not allowed to prowl the corridors at night, no matter if it's Christmas break or start of term! And yet you have done so! Hanging in the Restricted section to top it all off!"

Harry could not come up with anything to defend himself. He didn't need to. He had no reason, other than his own childish curiosity about Flamel, to justify what he'd done.

"50 points will be taken for this atrocious display of nighttime wandering, and you're lucky it will be just that, Potter!"

"Yes, sir," Harry said weakly, his voice cracking. His eyes were prickling, but he would not cry. He deserved to be yelled at, punished. He had done something wrong. Snape, one of his teachers, justifiably had every right to be angry.

"Even more so than your disregard for that rule, you decide to go knowing that Quirrel is stalking around and very well could mean you harm? I am protecting you with all I have, but you've got to act responsibly and keep yourself safe, Harry!"

The use of his first name broke the dam, and Harry choked as the tears made their way down his face. "I'm sorry, sir," He mumbled. Oh, he sounded so pathetic, he knew it...

Snape sighed and walked closer to the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you are. Don't let it happen again, Harry. Not only is it against the rules, but with that... _man_ around, I don't trust you to be by yourself. Keep Weasley or Granger with you at all times from now on. Now, I would like to ask, why were you in the Restricted section..?"

Harry sniffed, and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. "I was looking up some information," He said truthfully. "About Nicholas Flamel."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And what did you desire with such information?"

"Well, it's about what that three-headed dog Fluffy is guarding... we ran into him on accident one day," He explained at the look on Snape's face. "Hermione thinks its guarding something, and Hagrid kinda let it slip that it is..."

Snape scowled. "That man needs to learn to keep his mouth shut."

"So it is guarding something?" Harry asked.

"Never you mind," Said Snape crossly. "It's not for you to meddle with, Harry. You and your friends need to concentrate on your classes. No more research about Flamel or anything about what that dog is guarding. It's a private matter and students should not know about it. No more, Potter," He added firmly when it looked like Harry might protest. "Or you won't like the consequences."

Harry, knowing that Snape was right, nodded, and for the first time, turned his attention to the room he had been brought into. It was small, and seemed to be completely empty except for... his eyes landed on it suddenly; a mirror, tall and large, was standing a few feet away from them. Turning towards it, Harry frowned. Why was there a large mirror in a room this small? And why was it secluded?

He didn't know why, but before he knew it, he was walking towards it, feeling as though it was waiting for him, drowning out Snape's voice as the man spoke to him, and he almost felt as if he were in a haze and he did not stop until he was directly in front of it. There was a beautiful red-haired woman and a man who looked just like him staring at him from the mirror, but when he turned to look, no one was behind him except Snape.

"Potter? Potter! Honestly! Ignore me again and it'll be detention when term resumes! I won't stand for – " Snape's snappish tone was suddenly close to him and Harry, broken out of his revere, turned to him to ask who the woman was, but the man had halted beside him, completely stiff, his eyes wide and face pale.

Brow furrowing in confusion, Harry looked back into the mirror. The woman was still there, and she was smiling brightly, her green eyes, the same as Harry's, alight in the exact same way his did when he was happy. The man was smiling too, his glasses slightly lopsided.

"Lily," Snape whispered brokenly, his voice sounding as if he had lived a thousand years of misery. Harry looked back at him.

"Lily...?" The boy asked.

Snape seemed to have forgotten Harry was there; his long hand reached out, his finger tips touching the glass, directly where Lily's face was. She smiled at him sadly. Harry found it absolutely confusing that he could not see Snape in the mirror. He could only see himself, the man, and the woman, who was still smiling at him, her hand laid gently upon his shoulder, a hand he could not feel. Suddenly, it dawned on Harry who this woman was. Who the man was. Who they were...

"Mum?" He choked, his eyes glistening with tears again. He reached to touch her face, but found only glass beneath his fingertips instead.

At hearing Harry's voice, Severus broke his attention away from the lovely woman in the mirror, his Lily, and stared down at her son. "Yes, Harry," He said softly. "That is Lily. That is your mum. The woman I love."

"You see her too, then?" The boy cried, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. "But I don't see you, Professor... why can't I see you...?"

Snape looked back into the mirror. "I do not know, Harry. I do not see you, either. Just Lily."

"She's beautiful," Harry smiled, rubbing his sleeve at his eyes again. "Then... if she's my mum, then the man... he's my dad."

Snape stiffened. "Yes. Those are your parents, Potter."

Harry frowned up at him. "You said you saw just my mum... so you don't see my dad. I wonder why I can see them both and you can't, and why we can't see each other..?"

"It is a question for you as well as me, Harry," Snape sighed, and placed a hand on Harry's small shoulder. "We should be heading back." He announced. " It is late, and you need to be in bed."

Harry did not want to go, and as Snape lead him away from the mirror, he looked back at his mother longingly. She smiled back, almost as if she was encouraging him to go.

"Come along, Potter," Snape coaxed. "She would want you in bed."

Sighing, Harry nodded, and followed his teacher out of the room and into the corridor. As they departed, he could not help but look back again, wishing, that for one more moment, he could look at his mother's smiling face again. But he knew that if he could, he would never stop looking, because staring at her, for even just another moment, the woman who put down her life for him, to try and imagine what she was like in life, would not be enough.

It would never be enough.


End file.
